Duke.

AGNES. [Assisting him with his overcoat.] Surely I am too obnoxious in
the abstract for your uncle to entertain such a detail as a portrait.

LUCAS. It struck me that it might serve to correct certain preconceived
notions of my people's.

AGNES. Images of a beautiful temptress with peach-blossomed cheeks and
stained hair?

LUCAS. That's what I mean; they suspect a decline of taste on my part,
of that sort. Good-bye, dear.

AGNES. Is this mission of the Duke of St Olpherts the final attempt to
part us, I wonder? [Angrily, her voice hardening.] Why should they
harass and disturb you as they do?

LUCAS. [Kissing her.] Nothing disturbs me now that I know I and strong
and well. Besides, everybody will soon tire of being shocked. Even
conventional morality must grow breathless in the chase. [He leaves
her. She opens the other door and calls.]

AGNES. Mrs. Thorpe! I'm alone now. [She goes on to the balcony, through
the centre window, and looks down below. GERTRUDE enters, and joins her
on the balcony.]

GERTRUDE. How well your husband is looking!

AGNES. Sir George Brodrick pronounces him quite recovered.